Just Pretend
by skysedge
Summary: You taught me how it can feel like love.
1. Wake Up

They had first made love on a warm spring evening.

It had started with an innocent conversation. Comments on the weather, the soft breeze, the sweet scent of the air. There had been compliments, laughter, blushing cheeks, hands tentatively searching for something to hold. After, kisses, bumping teeth in embarrassed earnest, flushed cheeks, lungs starved for air. They had found their room soon after, let their bodies teach them how to share, how to taste, how to _feel._ It had been natural, instinctive, and they hadn't talked until morning.

For Kashuu, it had changed everything.

He had awoken with his cheek to Yamatonokami's back and his heart torn open. The sun had risen over the citadel while he lay still, listening to the other's breathing, thinking back on all that had happened. He had been certain that a man was supposed to feel invigorated after, filled with energy and pride. In reality, it seemed the opposite. His exhaustion reached more than just his body and his pride lay in tatters.

It had been... well, _wonderful._ It had. He had lost all sense of himself to that of sharing each moment with another. More than he had ever dreamed of, he had been free for a time. The present was different.

It wasn't cute. It wasn't beautiful. Flushed cheeks and swollen lips, incomprehensible noises from deep in his throat, words that made no sense upon waking. Yamatonokami had been beautiful, regardless. But Kashuu himself? Never. Losing control was weak. Frightening, even.

He had hated remembering the person he had become, vulnerable and exposed and needing. It was mortifying. Ashamed, he had excused himself before first light.

For Yamatonokami it seemed as if nothing had changed.

They went about their daily business, chores and conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. It was comforting, the routine they had grown so used to, but it felt _wrong._ Questions should have been asked, boundaries set, some sort of agreement come to. At least, Kashuu thought so. Wasn't that how humans worked these things out? Why shouldn't they do the same?

A footstep in the doorway. A hand on his shoulder. He knew the feeling, the scent beside him. Against his will, heat rose in his cheeks.

"Do you like this duty, Kiyomitsu?"

An innocent question, tone no different to usual. He cleared his throat.

"I don't mind it. The horses are cute."

"Mm, they are."

As he continued brushing the flank of the creature before him, he felt Yamatonokami touching his scarf. Below the soft material were the brands of their time together, red and purple kisses that had only grown darker as the hours passed. His hands tried to tremble around the brush and he held it tighter still, willing himself to stop.

"Are you embarrassed?"

His voice was quiet, as kind as ever, but laced with something different. Perhaps it was because they shared a secret now, that any tone lower than a conversational voice seemed sinful. The teasing comment, one he should have been _used_ to, raised the hairs on the back of his neck and he shook his head.

"No. Idiot."

A soft laugh was his answer, and he continued grooming the horse with renewed concentration. He wasn't afraid of being alone with Yamatonokami, quite the opposite, but he found himself wishing for anything to break the silence. He wanted to say so much, ask so many things, but had no notion of how to start. It all seemed vulgar or childish. And why should he be the one to do so? It had taken two, after all.

"The horses _are_ cute, aren't they?"

The fingers fell from his scarf and Kashuu nodded in agreement, lowering the brush and turning in time to catch a mischievous glint in the other's eyes. He had always loved those eyes, ever since they had first met like this. They were like the brilliant blue of the ocean in midsummer. Usually. Now, they seemed stormy.

"They're still not as cute as you, though, Kiyomitsu."

"Obviously." Kashuu's voice trembled and he cursed himself. "How could you even compare us?"

"Mm, you're right. I'm sorry. Should I make it up to you?"

"How would you-"

He should have expected the kiss. Yamatonokami had always been playful, even when on his best behaviour. A calm corner of Kashuu's mind told him that he was being ridiculous, even as his eyes fluttered shut and his hands grasped at the front of the other's clothes, the brush clattering to the floor. It was a simple kiss, parted lips and and breath hot on his face. He was left with red cheeks and his heart hammering in his throat.

"Is that better?"

 _No._

"Y-yeah, I suppose..."

He was rewarded with a sweet laugh and a hand ruffling his hair. One hand rising to cover his mouth, he took a step back. Yamatonokami gave him a small wave and left the stables, promising to see him later as if nothing had happened, again.

Was this... how it was supposed to work?

Usually, he would have asked Yamatonokami. It didn't seem possible now. His chest was tight and his breathing ragged. It was _frightening,_ having shared so much of himself. It wasn't that he didn't want to. He longed to expose everything, to articulate the feelings he had never been able to understand. If he was ever going to tell anyone he had always been sure it would be Yamatonokami. But like this?

People told him he was cute all the time. Had anything really changed at all? If the right moment had come to pass, would Yamatonokami have made love with anyone? Had he _already?_

In the darkness of the stables, Kashuu wrapped his arms around himself and tried to stop thinking. As usual, it was impossible. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

They had slept together. It was simple. Wasn't it? Even if it had seemed more, if he _felt_ more than he could understand... did that make it real? He had believed in something before, hadn't he? And how had _that_ turned out, as soon as his usefulness ended?

 _I love you._

No such thing had been said, not by either of them.

Was that what he wanted to hear?

Unsure and disgusted by himself, by his inability to keep his poise, he longed for the ground to swallow him. Distantly, the assembly bell began to ring.


	2. Open The Door

Battle felt natural.

It didn't matter how sweaty or dishevelled he was by the end, Kiyomitsu had never felt ugly once a battle was over. The high of the fight took over everything else.

This battle was no different. They had both been called out to the front lines and that by itself had been exhilarating. Neither of them were called upon to act as captain and so they were free to fight together, side by side, as they had so long ago.

Kiyomitsu loved watching Yasusada fight. Usually so mild mannered and soft spoken, on the battlefield, he was wild. There was a fierce, manic glee in his eyes when he took to the field, a dangerous curve to his smile, and he moved with the grace and the ferocity of a beast, a predator who lived for the hunt. The first time Kiyomitsu had seen him fight with his human body, he had been left breathless. This was the _real_ Yasusada, the one he could read as easily as his own emotions, the blade who was beautiful and deadly. Revered but feared. Like a monster. Like Okita had been.

Watching him was fascinating but fighting alongside him was a different experience yet again. He found it intoxicating, the way they moved with one another, exchanging smirks and triumphant shouts. Fighting alone would leave him gasping for breath, smiling and deafened by his heart pounding in his ears. Fighting _together_ made him feel as if he was losing all reason, all semblance of self. He could see sweat shining on the curve of Yasusada's neck and felt a thrill right down to his core which he could now recognise as longing.

Fighting together was intimate like nothing else he had known. He had thought it was the ultimate shared experience until the night they had come to know one another's bodies perhaps better than even their own.

Lunging forwards alongside Yasusada, he tried to push these thoughts from his mind. They had no place in battle. Nothing mattered except the absolute destruction of the enemy before him.

Still, he wondered. Did humans react to fighting this way? The stories they told never seemed to reflect these feelings. But they were swords, weren't they? They had been made to fight, to kill. Why shouldn't it feel good?

The final enemy fell to his sword in an explosion of gore and he turned his back on the carnage with a satisfied smile. Before he could take a step away, Yasusada was by his side, keeping him in place by tangling his fingers in his hair and crashing their lips together, a kiss all tongue and teeth. He tasted of blood and sweat. Kiyomitsu could feel the sensation rush straight through him once again; his body knew what it wanted. As covered in dirt and blood as he was, his body was reacting as if he was safely in the citadel. It was embarrassing but even here his skin was aching to be touched.

Human bodies were simple enough, he thought. Feelings were more difficult. He pushed Yasusada away with a frown.

"They're all watching, you know," he hissed.

Yasusada's eyes were bright with mischief and his smile didn't fade as he looked around at their companions as if just remembering they were there.

"So they are," he said taking hold of Kiyomitsu's chin with one hand.

Kiyomitsu cursed his impulsive human body. It was impossible to not get caught up in the sensation, heart still hammering after the fight and his whole body hot and alert. He met Yasusada's hungry kisses with equal vigour, grabbing fistfuls of the others haori until he was pushed away for air. Forcing himself to step away, he lowered his eyes to the ground, anything other than check to see if anyone was staring.

"We shouldn't," he insisted. "Not when people are watching."

"Why?"

Yasusada seemed genuinely confused, perhaps even a little hurt. If he hadn't known it was sincere, Kiyomitsu may have struck him. Trust Yasusada to not be embarrassed by something like this. He was so simple, sometimes.

"It's supposed to be private," he tried to explain to the best of his ability. "So we should wait until we're back home."

"I don't see why," Yasusada said thoughtfully. "Kissing feels good but so does stretching when your muscles are stiff. You don't have to do _that_ in private."

"It's not the same!"

"I don't get it," Yasusada admitted, disappointment evident in his tone. "But if that's what you want, I can wait."

"Good!"

Kiyomitsu refused to meet the eyes of any of their team on the way back to the citadel although he could hear Yasusada chatting normally with them all. Was this _normal?_ Had he been wrong? Even just kissing felt like it should mean more than something you let other people see.

Feeling humiliated, he tried to put it down to the state his clothes were in. That was a sentiment he understood, at least.

Back in their shared room in the citadel, Yasusada wasted no time.

Kiyomitsu found himself being pressed against one of the walls and kissed until his head was spinning. If he thought about it, it was pretty gross kissing like this when they were still so dirty from the field. His body had no time for thoughts like that. It felt good to be so sweaty and dishevelled, made it easier for him to get his hands under Yasusada's clothing and to trace the muscles of his chest with chipped painted fingernails.

"Is this better?"

Yasusada sounded genuinely concerned. He pressed his lips briefly to Kiyomitsu's cheek and leaving him powerless to resist. His chest ached, with desire or with emotion he wasn't sure. It was easier to concentrate on disentangling Yasusada from the myriad layers he insisted on wearing to battle. He had already lost his own coat somewhere near the door and worried that he couldn't remember having taken it off.

Was this going mad? Whimpering nonsense words and grasping at anything within reach, pulling Yasusada's hair free from its tie and tugging on the strands with no semblance of gentleness, hearing himself moan softly at the taste of fingers in his mouth, the soft give of flesh as he bit down against them.

Too much. It was all too much to understand. This wasn't the same as the night before. As he lay back against the covers, naked and trembling, he realised he was afraid almost as much as he was aroused. Not of Yasusada, never that. It was this side of himself that frightened him. He didn't care what happened to his body, not if it felt good; the way his spine arched without his instruction as burning lips left marks on his hips told him that clearly. His heart was different.

"Wait..."

It took a concentrated, agonising effort to open his eyes and pull Yasusada back up to eye level. The other was flushed, his pupils wide and impossibly dark in the dim light. It was a beautiful look, as animalistic as the one he wore on the battlefield. God, how Kiyomitsu wanted to see more of it. It took all of his strength to evade the next kiss and shake his head.

"I'm tired, Yasusada. Do we have to-"

"Are you sure?" A hand pressed against him along with the question and he held a hand to his own mouth to smother any humiliating noises that dared slip from his lips against his will.

"Not my body," he insisted weakly.

"Then why?"

Yasusada shifted away. The air that rushed in to fill the space he had left was bitterly cold. Kiyomitsu glanced at his face to see him frowning in confusion. He pressed a hand to jumping pulse in his chest and shook his head.

"I'm tired," he repeated. "Not my body. My brain."

"You're holding your heart, though."

Yasusada sounded hurt. He pushed himself away completely and sat cross-legged beside the futon, pulling at the tangles in his own hair in irritation. Kiyomitsu wondered if he would have been angry, had he been the one being rejected. Probably. It was insulting, wasn't it? Humiliating, even.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, rolling onto his side and drawing a sheet over himself.

"It's okay. Me too, I guess."

Yasusada gave a light laugh and reached out to squeeze Kiyomitsu's shoulder, sweet and forgiving as always. How quickly his demeanour could change. That, too, was something Kiyomitsu was beginning to worry about.

"I don't really know how this all works yet," Yasusada was continuing. "So thank you for telling me to stop if you didn't want it. Maybe I didn't read the signs right? Did you... not want to do it again?"

Despite himself, Kiyomitsu snorted and shook his head.

"Iidot. You're not _that_ stupid. Of course I want to. It's... complicated. I think."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. Don't worry about it."

Kiyomitsu lay still and silent for a time, listening to Yasusada tidying their discarded clothes away and preparing to sleep. A rustle of blankets from just behind him sounded as if Yasusada had settled down in his own futon. Only a foot away at most, the distance seemed to gape in Kiyomitsu's imagination, a cold chasm that he wasn't sure how to cross.

After a time, he raised his voice.

"Hey, Yasusada?"

"Yeah?"

The reply was instant. It seemed as if neither of them were ready to sleep just yet.

"Do you... think it's ugly? Me, I mean. Acting like that."

"Of course not."

"But it's so noisy and sweaty and-"

"That's why I like it." Yasusada laughed gently. "It's different, isn't it? To how we usually act. And you're cute when you're a mess, too."

"How?"

"Eh, you really want me to do into details?"

"Yes."

Kiyomitsu knew he was being petulant and pulled the sheet a little further over his face, hiding from no-one.

"I like your eyes the most," Yasusada said after a moment of thought. "They go all dark. Your chest is cute too because you blush there. I didn't know that could happen until last night. Your lips look really nice when they're red, as well. And then there's your-"

"That's enough!"

Thoroughly embarrassed, Kiyomitsu didn't hear Yasusada moving and so jumped in surprise when a warm body joined him under the sheet.

"So don't worry about it, okay?" Yasusada asked softly. "I don't think I could ever see you as ugly. And you feel nice, all the time. Like this, too."

It was impossible to not relax into the gentle embrace, even if he still felt unsure. After a few minuted of comfortable silence, Yasusada spoke again.

"I won't do anything like it in front of people again, if it embarrasses you."

"Yeah. But... do you think the others look good too? When they're all gross, I mean."

"Not like you."

"So you wouldn't do things like this with them?"

"Why would I? I have you."

He felt a little better. His chest seemed less tight, at least. It was comforting to think that this was something special between them, even if he didn't understand it at all. A bond that only they shared, one that was both physical and emotional too.

Almost like how it had been with Okita. In a way. He felt strange for making the comparison but once he had thought of it he couldn't stop.

He had loved Okita. Both of them had. So did that mean that this was love, too?

Behind him, Yasusada was snoring gently. Maybe he would ask in the morning


End file.
